


Almost (Sweet Music)

by hpg



Series: Wasteland, Baby! [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Canon Divergence - Post-Hogwarts, Dancing, Diagon Alley, Emotions, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Jazz - Freeform, Post-War, Slow Dancing, based on a hozier song, directly post-war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:20:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23510704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpg/pseuds/hpg
Summary: The day after the final battle, Hermione Granger is surprised to find the world has not stopped turning. Not knowing how to deal with having no purpose, she is lost.She knew Draco Malfoy had lost faith in his side long before the war ended. Will a chance meeting teach her how to find herself again?Perhaps all she ever needed was to learn how to be lost...Alternate title: Losing the War
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Wasteland, Baby! [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690561
Kudos: 13





	Almost (Sweet Music)

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to installment #2 of Wasteland, Baby! I found this oneshot harder to write so I would welcome any feedback! I think I've managed to get most of my intentions across here. Again, it is based on Hozier's Almost (Sweet Music), the second track on the album as well as [this tumblr post](https://rosepetalphilosophy.tumblr.com/post/183200293595/types-of-people-wasteland-baby-nina-cried).

It looked the same as it always had.

And that was what hurt so much.

The same light blue door, the same little window poking out of the roof, the same path through the lawn. Her preservation charm had held up well; the bushes were barely overgrown and the paint on the door had faded a little, but not peeled.

She didn’t feel her legs as they moved her towards her childhood home. When her fingers touched the door handle she let out a small gasp before pushing her lips closed. She swallowed. Then she swallowed again. This is getting ridiculous. At her own cross reminder, she turned the handle and stepped inside.

This reminded her of getting back from holiday. Of course, back then she had only been gone for a week or so, camping with her parents, but the house always felt so still when they came in again.

Untouched.

Now she stood in the living room, empty frames staring at her.

Finally, Hermione Granger began to cry.

~

Fine. This would be just fine.

Hermione dropped her bag onto the bed and looked around.

The room was… quaint, to say the least. But at least it wasn’t as dark as the remains of Diagon Alley outside, with a big enough window to let in daylight. And the windowsill was big enough to sit on… though she supposed that wouldn’t be too appealing until they had fixed up what was once the hub of wizarding London, and was now her view.

She sighed and sank onto the bed, throwing her head into her hands.

~

The dimming of evening came at last, but she had moved little. Now she lay on the creaky bed, fingers interlaced and resting on her stomach as she stared upwards.

This was the right decision.

Definitely.

Right?

Except Hermione wasn’t sure what the right decision was anymore. What was she meant to be doing with herself? For years all she had been thinking about was protecting Harry, destroying horcruxes, stopping Voldemort. What was her purpose now it was all over?

Of course she would be going back to the Burrow. Fred’s funeral was in a week after all. She closed her eyes, only two droplets escaping from her eyelids.

That was why she couldn’t stay. Harry was there, obviously, but they could barely fit everyone. Molly had of course insisted on Bill, Charlie and Percy staying for a bit, and welcomed any order members who found themselves at a loose end. She would go back and see them. She would. Just not yet.

How could she carry on? Was she supposed to pretend their victory had been without losses, that she was not shattered beyond repair?

These people were her family, but in the Burrow she would never get a moment’s peace. And then she had no one to come home to in the muggle world… but she had wanted to go back there. It was a place where none of this had happened. She had lost herself in the wizarding world, but it had blown up only one night ago.

She didn’t know where to go in the fallout.

So she went to the pub.

At least the Leaky Cauldron hadn’t changed much. It was barely possible for it to get any darker inside than it already was, Hermione reflected, staring into the fire. Another blessing had come as her forlorn look scared off the barman from asking any questions. She didn’t doubt he recognised her, so she was thankful that he kept any thoughts to himself today.

It grew surprisingly full as the night drew on. She had read about the celebrations that happened after Voldemort’s disappearance when Harry was a baby. She didn’t blame people for doing the same now.

Alright, maybe she did.

How could they not see that so much was broken with the world now? So much missing? Keeping her eyes trained stubbornly on the flames in front of her, Hermione huffed out a sigh and raised her- fourth? fifth?- drink to her lips, draining it.

As she placed the empty glass down, she decided it would be too early to go back for another one. Her fingers began drumming on the arm of the chair.  
After a while, she couldn’t resist a surreptitious look around.

Over at the bar, a group of older witches and wizards had their heads together, gossiping excitedly over the newspaper. Hermione frowned. Could the Prophet be trusted yet? Next her eyes turned to a younger couple, sitting by the window, hands intertwined between them as they shared what looked like a perfect moment. Hermione felt an uncomfortable twinge watching this. A clanging bell announced the arrival of a new man, who went and greeted an old friend, slapping each other on the shoulder in affection.

How were all these people acting as if the world hadn’t just stopped turning?

Brows still furrowed, she twisted back again when her eyes landed on someone familiar. Was that Malfoy?

Her mouth had opened in astonishment, a fact she didn’t realise until piercing grey eyes suddenly raised and clashed with her gaze. Hurriedly, she snapped her head back to watching the fire.

Why on earth would he be here?

Maybe she should go over and find out.

No, no, no, no. She was definitely drunk if that was what she was thinking. Hell, he was a Death Eater. That was a certified bad idea.

But… out of anyone here, surely he might understand how lost she was feeling? Another sideways glace told her he was the only other person alone in the pub. No, she was being ridiculous.

A flicker in the corner of her eye piqued her interest however, and when she noticed it was Malfoy standing up… well, she couldn’t help herself.

~

“Firewhiskey, please.”

Malfoy startled at hearing her voice so near to him, but he soon recovered. Despite being a couple of empty stools away from him at the bar, and the fact that this was her idea, Hermione felt her heart begin to race.

“Already an alcoholic, Granger?” he asked, no humour in his voice.

As her drink was placed down in front of her, she glanced to her right. Malfoy had not looked towards her.

“I don’t know,” she replied, sliding some coins across the bar and taking a gulp from her cup.

Malfoy twisted around, eyebrow raised. But he looked past her, instead turning to see over his shoulder to where a collection of bottles and glasses sat on the table by her seat.

“Doesn’t look promising,” he offered. Like before, his voice was lower than usual, monotone.

“What else am I meant to be doing?” she asked him, sliding off her barstool and stepping a little closer.

“Why are you asking me?” he retorted, hunching further over his own glass, “Am I not doing the exact same?”

Hermione simply sighed, sitting herself down on the stool directly beside him and taking another sip.

“I just… why I’m telling you this Lord knows, but I just don’t know how I should be feeling right now,” she said quietly.

“Like this,” Malfoy said in that same dejected voice, waving his hand vaguely in the air. Still he did not look up.

However, Hermione nodded, not minding that he couldn’t see. That… made sense. She didn’t even care that it was him that gave her the answer, but she felt like there was some refreshing truth in that. Her problem was not knowing what to do. And maybe the answer was… nothing. Staring into her glass now, she felt as if some understanding was finally rising in her, when one of the old women from the bar tapped her shoulder.

“Miss Granger! It is you!” she exclaimed, grabbing her hand enthusiastically, “congratulations my dear, everyone is so thankful. Can you believe it’s finally over?”

Hermione grimaced back at her, praying that the question was rhetorical. Unfortunately, she saw head begin to turn all over the room. Her cheeks grew hot. Flustered, she nodded at the woman, turning back around to finish her drink.

At last, she caught Malfoy’s eye. His glass sat empty in his hand, and he was getting down from the bar. Lifting his eyebrows in question, he tilted his head towards the back entrance. Hermione glanced over his shoulder to see the rest of the woman’s friends getting up too, and agreed without question, setting her own glass down and marching away.

Outside, an expanse of sky emerged. The stars were still shining away, impervious as they were to the trials of earth. She stopped before the brick wall, watching the heavens until Malfoy came up beside her.

“I’ve moved out,” he stated, wand tapping on the correct brick without a second thought.

“You’re in Diagon Alley too?”

“What do you mean ‘too’?" This time he actually looked round at her as they made their way under the brick arch, "the great Hermione Granger isn’t away from her heroic friends right now is she?”

“Well, yes,” she crossed her arms over her chest, “and why shouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’re on the winning side, Granger,” he drawled, facing ahead again, “no disgrace. People were lining up to pat you on the back in there. Only a matter of time before they noticed me and started spitting.”

“Why aren’t you safe and well back home then?” she shot back.

There was a pregnant pause. Draco’s jaw tensed slightly, but then he seemed to give up.

“It’s not home. Not anymore.”

Hermione felt her breath stopper in her throat, legs halting beneath her.

A couple of steps ahead of her, Malfoy noticed.

“Granger?” he said warily. “Hey, Granger?”

Fingers snapping in front of her face brought her plummeting back to the present.

“Sorry, I… I was just going to say that I- I know what you mean,” she choked out.

His eyebrows drew together but, slowly, he nodded.

“Come on,” he muttered, turning back around. She followed him, but it was only a few feet before he had stopped and stepped up to a doorway at the side of a shuttered shop. A key flashed in his hand and it swung open.

“Do you… do you want to come in?”

This was madness.

She did.

Up a flight of thin stairs not too different from her own, Hermione found herself in the new Malfoy residence. She didn’t miss that it was still a sight bigger than her own. There was a living room, for starters.

Malfoy disappeared to the kitchen, leaving her standing in the centre, lost as she had been that very morning in another living room. Clinking bottles announced Malfoy’s return. She suspected that butterbeer was the only thing lining his kitchen cupboards at the moment.

He stalked to the threadbare sofa and sat, holding out a bottle to her in invitation.

She took it.

She was never telling Harry and Ron about this.

~

“I’m sorry.”

It was the first thing either had said since they sat down, but it did not take Hermione off-guard. Calmly, she finished her sip of butterbeer.

Anyone else might not understand. Surely everything was going right for Hermione Granger, she was victorious, all her dreams coming true. But she felt the opposite of that.

“I know. I wouldn’t be in here if you still hated me.”

“The world’s gone mad,” he said, taking another swig, “Hermione Granger is in my house of her own free will.”

A smile fluttered across her lips for a second but she shoved it back down.

“I’m sorry too,” she said.

This time, Malfoy was utterly confused.

“Granger, what are you on about?”

“I’m sorry for the choices you had to make,” she said, putting her bottle down to face him, “I’m sorry for what you’ve lost.”

“You don’t look much like you’ve won either, Granger,” he commented.

“You would be right,” she replied.

There was little space between them now, the sofa being cramped as it was. Across this small space the two looked at each other, opposing sides of a war at ease at last.

Hermione slumped sideways, resting her cheek against the back of the sofa. The fabric was itchy but she was too tired to care.

“What did you mean earlier?” Malfoy murmured, voice barely nudging the silence. “About home.”

“Ah,” Hermione looked to her lap, “I went to my parents’ house this morning. I… at the start of the year I obliviated them, sent them away to be safe so no one would realise they were my parents. They don’t even know it themselves.”

“I’m sorry,” Malfoy said again. Hermione’s eyes flicked up to meet his in acknowledgement.

Slipping her shoes off, she tucked her knees up under her chin, no matter how childish it was. It was even more bizarre considering where she currently sat, but the butterbeer had filled her with a familiar honeyed warmth and she couldn’t care less how out of place she was here. Her whole world was out of place at the moment.

Malfoy heaved a heavy sigh and pushed himself off the sofa. She noticed he had taken off his shoes as well as her eyes trailed after him to the corner of the room. Once there, he fiddled around with something his body obscured, before finally getting his wand out. One tap and a faint piano melody bloomed in the air.

Hermione’s head raised slightly from its resting place.

“Whoever was here last left these lying around,” Malfoy finally moved to the side to reveal a small gramophone and a stack of discs propped next to it.

“I know this,” she breathed as a muffled trumpet began to play, “I swear my mum used to have this on in the kitchen…”

“I’ve never heard it,” Draco said, leaning back against the opposing wall, “you can have it if you like. Even if it is worse than Filch’s old thing.”

This time Hermione let the corners of her mouth turn up for more than a second. Before she knew it, a chuckle had forced its way from her throat. She let her head fall back.

“God, you should have seen it,” she began softly, “when us Gryffindors had a dancing lesson, McGonagall made Ron dance with her,” she was grinning now, eyes sparkling and animated, “I thought he was going to die of shame. You should have seen Fred and George…”

Her words jammed in her throat then, any trace of a smile dying on her lips. She closed her eyes.

“This is all wrong.”

“Granger,” Malfoy’s voice was cautious, “Fred would hate to see you like this. You know that.”

An exhale accompanied the squeeze in her chest. She nodded, opening her eyes to find Malfoy crouched beside her, looking up at her uncertainly.

Once again, he made her mind set in motion. Maybe she was allowed to be lost. She was allowed to cry, and allowed to smile. And with a life so off-kilter, what did it matter anyway?

“Fancy a dance?” she said.

Malfoy did not smile, but seemed to relax, some stiffness melting away.

Together they rose, Hermione clasping onto his hand as she began to sway. It reminded her of Harry, just after Ron had stormed out, when they were left alone. Just like then, it felt so wrong to move. Perhaps even more so now.

But she did nothing to stop her limbs as they performed a slow version of the awful jive her mum would dance in the kitchen. She was sure that no one would want her to be still forever. Not her parents, not Fred, not Lupin or Lavender or Madeye. Surely this was more a way of remembering them than sitting still in silence, alone.

A new song crackled into being next. Her mind flitted to images of how her dad used to join her mum, coming up behind her and enfolding her in his arms so they swayed together.

_Am I Blue…_

As the words floated across the space, Malfoy’s free hand reached for hers. Gently, he pulled her closer.

By the end of the song, her forehead was resting on his shoulder as they span, out of time with the melody, out of sync with the world. When Draco lowered his head to catch her lips with his, she accepted it. It was all wrong, but nothing was right anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Just for anyone interested, the songs I imagine playing in this are all refernced in Hozier's song itself. Personally I would say Miles Davis' _Stella by Starlight_ for the first one and then _Am I Blue_ is from _Am I Blue_ by Ray Charles. But you can find a full list of quoted songs [here](https://www.songmeaningsandfacts.com/almost-sweet-music-by-hozier/).


End file.
